Christmas Lights
by strikingtwelve
Summary: John Smith is putting Christmas lights above Clara Oswald flat when a very unreliable ladder gives way. Maybe not the greatest terms for a first meet. Teacher/Caretaker Whouffaldi AU.


_A/N: So this was intended to be a chapter in this year's December Domestics... but I ended up not having enough time to complete the series. So the chapters I DID write, I'll be posting them individually :)  
_

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Christmas was a funny time. A mixture of many things but still a mundane repeat every year. In Clara's flat building lived an equal amount of joyous Christmas enthusiasts as Scruges in and of themselves while she considered herself to be both. Maybe not quite a Scruge, in fact she quite liked Christmas. But the carollers dropping by every five minutes and the same reendition of _All I Want For Chrismtas_ tended to get a bit old.

But unlike most, if there was just a single thing she never tired of, it was the snow.

The snowfall always began ages before Christmas, but ever since she was a child it had been sort of her mark for the start of the holidays. For as long as she could remember Clara and her mother would have the tree up and decorated by as early as the start of November, but per her dad's request the rest of the decorating was always saved for later in the year. That was their thing. Their tradition. Early decorating to stump the guests. The occasional string lights hung on the edge of the roof in hopes of pushing the neighbors into the holiday cheer a bit early.

Of course, as she'd gotten older the desire had subsided somewhat. Especially after her mother had died. Clara remembered the countless times her dad came knocking on her door, nagging about the help he always needed with the tree but in a... not so nagging way. She always called it that in her late-teen days. An excuse to toss a pillow at his face and beg him to leave her alone and handle it himself.

 _I only decorate with Mum._

 _Your mum is_ gone, _Clara!_

For years Clara denied Christmas as anything more than just another day in a long string of three hundred sixty-five. It never felt like Christmas without her mother. The decorations were there, the presents were there, the little children peeking out of their bedroom window waiting for Father Christmas were there, but Clara never was.

Then came the day, after four long years that she realized denial was no longer an option. Ellie Oswald was gone. She was never coming back and it was about time the daughter she had once been so proud of grew up. So that was exactly what she did. Found ways in the littlest places to feel close again to closest person to her in the entire world.

So from then on, Clara's tree was put up smack in the start of November. And finally it made her smile.

The snow, too. God she loved the snow. Why was everyone always complaining about the snow?

She had a little tradition of her own, now. First day of December Clara would perch herself on her wide window sill that overlooked the white-covered streets from her place on the second story. Tea in hand she sipped at the warmth and smiled, drawing little patterns with her finger in the condensation.

A sudden flash of something heavy moving from top to bottom of her vision made Clara reel backwards with a gasp.

The movement was followed by a thud and a plume of snow rising a few feet from the ground but the deep groan of apparent frustration stood out the most.

A body writhed on the ground against the snow pinning him down.

"... _God_." She toed on a pair slippers, curled her light blue dressing gown around her shoulders then flew down the stairs and out the front door. "Did you _fall_?!"

It was the man from the flat directly above hers. Sweet bloke, Clara had always thought. Bit shy, maybe. She always made an effort to welcome newcomers but the two invites for dinner he had very kindly declined. Maybe she had jumped the guns a bit too quick. Besides, she didn't even know his name. Just that he was a doctor.

He still hadn't answered her question and Clara took his silence as a shame-filled _yes_. She laughed as she always did to hide concern that was probably unnecessary. She couldn't help it.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." With Clara's help the man untangled himself from the snow's clutches and rubbed his head that tilted back to inspect the terrace three stories up.

Clara followed his gaze and her brow lifted high in astonishment. "Are you really putting Christmas lights up _now_? It's practically a blizzard out here!"

"Meant to do them yesterday but I got distracted." His frown was deep set and made every line in his face stand out with a bit more emphasis than before. "Lucky for me that is... the _shortest_ three stories I've ever seen."

"Yeah, if I had a penny for every time time I whacked my head on the ceiling trying to put the star on the Christmas tree... I'd have four pennies. I've only lived here four years." She shook her head. "Come on. Stand up. Are you hurt?" She held onto his upper arms to help him stand but released him upon doing so. He was about a foot taller than she was. Something she found it admirable. "Oh, ouch. Ah. Your head. That doesn't look good."

His eyes were quizzical but narrowed with a hissed moan as his fingers touched his brow. He pulled them back to inspect the crimson and his frown deepend even more. "Ouch."

"Come on. Let's get inside and I'll clean you up." Clara gave his back an encouraging pat and smiled at her own tone when it was, what she felt to be gentle enough to get out of him a _nod_ and a few steps of defeat.

They took the stairs up the three stories instead of the two after Clara decided he would be far more comfortable in his own home. He already seemed quite antsy and nervous, casting sidelong glances when he thought she wasn't looking.

"I, er, never got your name." She piped sweetly. "Doctor what?"

"It's John Smith, actually." He shook his head before she could question. "And no, not Doctor Smith. I just go by the Doctor. But I don't actually have a doctorate in anything. Call it a nickname. No, I'm a caretaker at Coal Hill."

Clara paused and let the information sink in before shifting to beam at him where he could see. "Coal Hill? I work there too!"

His expression was unchanging but the way his mouth held itself agape made her think he didn't believe her. "I've never seen you-"

"Clara Oswald. English." Her fingers drummed absentmindedly against his back as she willed the information to click. "Across the hall from the nurse's office, next to Maths?"

"Oh, right! You! Thought you looked familiar." His eyes were sparkling with interest and he even smiled a bit. "Well, hello again Miss Oswald."

"And to you, Doctor." Using the title as a sort of first name felt foreign to her lips in an intriguing way. "How long have you worked there?" They continued their ascent.

"Oh, going on ten years I think?" He puffed out a breath through his cheeks as he considered. "Maybe eleven. No, nine actually. Started working there right after my wife died."

Normally one would expect a tone filled with sadness or remorse on a comment so deep, but the words rang from his mouth to her ears so fluently Clara suspected with a pang he'd had quite a bit of practice. "I'm so sorry to hear that." She rubbed his shoulder in a needless soothing gesture as he sat on his living room sofa. "My er, boyfriend died last year."

"Oh, you were Danny Pink's weren't you?"

"I wouldn't exactly call himself _his_ but, um..." Clara tilted her head so she faced him just partially. "We were together."

All those nerves seemed to dissipate with the opportunity to soothe a grieving heart. "Car accident, yeah?"

"Hit by a car." She corrected curtly. "How many sugars do you take in your tea?"

"Eight... you really don't have to do that."

"Nah, it's okay. I'm gonna stick around for a bit if it's all the same to you. Gotta make sure that head of yours isn't too rattled."


End file.
